


Finding Fire: Book II

by Arken_Stone1



Series: In Search of Fire Chronicles: The Beginning [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Star-crossed love, Supernatural Elements, a little passion on the trunk of a car, a new adventure begins, impossible odds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 04:17:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4005592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arken_Stone1/pseuds/Arken_Stone1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a sequel to my first novel, In Search of Fire.  In this second tale, the growing love between star-crossed lovers, Wren Bryant and Corwyn Darcy, deepens as her developing powers and side-effects from a Cambion's ghost become unpredictable and threaten to destroy her.  When Wren leaves all she knows in an attempt to keep all whom she loves safe from harm's way, she embarks upon a journey that she must travel alone to find a way to defy fate and create destiny.  Along the way, she meet new acquaintances and reunites with old friends, discovers a vengeful enemy who wants her dead, deal with new revelations and challenges she never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Fire: Book II

If a day in my life doesn’t include magic, demons, angels, the paranormal or Starbucks, then it isn’t normal. Welcome to my always strange and humorous life.

I dreamt of fire, barns, water melting flesh from bone as though the liquid were acid, etching its ownership into my bones as though they were ancient stone. I remembered Fionna puncturing my lung with her six-inch stiletto and breaking my leg with one well-placed kick while I bled out in my grandfather’s field. Then, I was dead.

Death tends to change a person’s perspective on life. Me? I’m still very much the cuddly, harmless fuzzball of uptight perfectionism I’ve always been. However, instead of turning green when I get angry, anxious or extremely excited, I become a walking fire ball in zero to ten. I’m great entertainment at barbecues.

I bolted upright in my bed as the montage of fire, history and nightmares overwhelmed my mind. I heard the obnoxious beeping of my three alarms and considered crushing them with a sledgehammer. I looked at my alarm clock and saw that I had awoken an hour early, losing out on that last sweet hour of sleep.

“Crap,” I muttered, falling back on my pillow that smelled faintly of smoke and sweat. I inhaled slowly and deeply, willing my anxiety back into the little mental dungeon that I had created for it. Today was the day an no way was I going to be able to avoid it. Today, was the day of my promotion being official.

Since the fight with Fionna in the field almost a year prior, I had worked diligently to get my life in order. I made sure to always be punctual to work and at the end of the day, I worked on the apartment renovations. Eight two-bedroom units and ten months later, Hyperion Heights was ready to accept tenants. Zenobia, my boyfriend’s sister and local real estate mogul had arranged the purchase of a historic building in Lincoln to be restored and turned into a profit maker for the Auren-Darcy clan. Corwyn’s twin sister, Cordelia, made sure that renovations remained faithful to the building’s Craftsman and Art Deco influences. 

Together, I called those two the Property Sisters and wondered how long until they had their own reality shows. Every time I imagined it, I saw a hybrid between a home remodeling show meets Poltergeist. Dr. Darcy, pediatrician and child psychiatrist, a.k.a. yet another genius in the outrageously talented family, decided that my physical therapy would be best executed in assisting in extensive remodeling and balancing around on tall stepladders trying to change light bulbs when I couldn’t walk a hundred yards without my leg hurting. I hated to admit it, but he had been right as usual. While I still needed my cane when my leg started aching, I had regained my mobility and completely recovered from my injuries caused by Fionna.

I dated Dr. Darcy’s brother, Corwyn Darcy, Vice-president of Operations for the Archangelus Foundation. He was, yet, another perfect specimen of an inhumanely beautiful gene pool with his dark auburn hair, vivid green eyes and smooth voice that melted stone with one word. 

Corwyn had made up his mind a year prior that I intrigued him and was the only woman in the past century worth his time. I was also the only woman other than his own family members that he couldn't instantly barbecue. He accepted my quirky family, my chronic anxiety and my barbed tongue without question. I didn’t see him as an opportunity or paycheck and he saw more of me than the uptight control-freak that many thought me to be.

Now was the day that made me tremble in my sensibly flat shoes. Oh, how I missed wearing my platform pumps, but its difficult to walk in the when one uses a cane. When reality hit, I resisted the urge to dash from my bed and hang my head over the toilet. Why would I be sick with dread on the day of my promotion, you ask, Dear Reader? Honestly, I worried that I wasn’t up to snuff to handle the responsibilities of the position to which I had been promoted. In a move that I attributed to typical Bryant insanity, I had applied for a Client Advocate position within the Foundation thinking that I could be productive and help people live better lives. 

What the hell was I thinking when I did that? Definitely temporary insanity.

I thought that I could use my phone voice and organizational skills to help make a difference in the lives in the people who needed the Foundation’s help the most. I submitted my resume, interviewed with Cordelia and heard nothing for weeks. I had resigned myself to being forever Penelope Darcy’s faithful Girl Friday and was content in the position. Then, on a Saturday, I got “The Call.”

Penelope called to congratulate me on my promotion to Client Advocate, telling me that I would begin my training beginning the following week. For the next several months, I bounced back between being her Administrative Assistant and attending several classes regarding local resources, fund allocation, communication styles, psychology, HIPAA and a thousand other things. At the beginning of each day, my mind was a steel trap. By the end of the day, my mind was a rusty mouse trap holding Swiss cheese. In other words, my mind barely functioned due to information overload.

The rumors were like nasty mosquitoes at work that never gave me a moment’s peace. The office gossip attested that I received my promotion because I was sleeping with the boss’s brother, that I had used my body to get a pay raise and a title. I think it was some of the men and women in the office who wished that Corwyn Darcy would use their bodies. Well, I have to admit that the new position paid much better than the thirteen dollars an hour that I made before my promotion. Now, fifty grand a year isn’t something to sneeze at and I didn’t take it for granted, but between my new salary and what I earned for being the Darcy’s Apartment Manager at Hyperion Heights, helped pay most of my medical bills.

That day holds strong in my memory because it wasn’t an abstract concept or a someday-type-of-thing. Someday had finally arrived and I wanted to exit stage left. This Bryant had no love for the anxiety that came with having hard work pay off. I wanted to crawl back under my desk, answer phones and file paperwork, but those days were over. I had searched for fire and now put my body in the line of it.

Yes, I'm a Bryant. The rest of my family is dauntless, but I inherited the proverbial ostrich gene: stick my head in the sand when someone can kick me in the backside.

I kept my plans to have breakfast with Jack that morning, arriving at the acreage promptly at nine o’clock. Jack stood on the front porch leaning against one of the white columns that adorned the farmhouse’s wraparound porch.

He pulled out his pocket watch, looking down at it and back at me. “You must’ve known I was making bacon and homemade pancakes.”

My stomach growled in hungry enthusiasm. “Much love for the pancakes.”

I pulled my minivan into the driveway, turning off the engine, taking my time to get out of the vehicle. Given the weather was damp and rainy Nebraska April, my leg decided to not be cooperative and I needed my cane that day.

“How’s the job going?” Jack asked, moving forward to help me from the van. I gave him a dismissive wave to let him know I could move around just fine under my own power.

“It goes,” I shrugged. “Maybe, I'm going crazy an I'm scared as hell. I just might be going crazy while going to Hell in a hand-basket. Wanna ride shotgun?”

"Gee, Rascal, try to curb your enthusiasm," he chuckled at my glib remark, offering me his arm. Let me tell you a few things about my family. I always thought of us a strange mix intellect, magic and mayhem. We all are Solomonari and we are huge on family loyalty. I realized that in the past year that I had developed more commonalities with my family than I had ever before possessed and that wasn’t a bad thing.

“I’ve been trying to get the final touches done on Hyperion Heights while keeping Zenobia from biting my backside about deadlines. Is it against Solomonari rules to animate a roll of duct tape to wrap itself around her so she’ll shut up for five minutes?”

“Duct tape only gives you silence,” Jack’s black mustache twitched as he smirked. “Sorry, Rascal, it doesn’t cure bitchy.”

“Or uppity,” I rolled my eyes.

“Still a burr in your side, huh?” Jack gave e a sympathetic glance.

“Much with the understatement. She's more like she’s a roll of razor wire,” I quipped, tapping my cane on the front porch. “I’ve thought about knocking her out with my cane more than once.”

I held up the hand-carved cane that Jack had made for me after my confrontation with Fionna that previous spring. Physical therapy and a martial arts class restored some of my confidence and stamina. The one thing that I had learned in my Krav Maga class is that I am my own weapon and I can make anything else into one.

I stared at it, appreciating its beauty and functionality. My cane was functioning art carved from rainbow eucalyptus and topped with a large brown opal that Jack had brought back from Ethiopia when he'd worked at a wildlife preserve. He often sold carvings from the same wood at the local farmer's market held in Lincoln on weekends and I knew my cane was a one-of-a-kind beauty. Celtic runes adorned the cane’s column and I loved the fact that it made by one of the people I respected and loved most.

I also had adapted it to other uses. While some magic practitioners are into amulets, staves, wands and the occasional hockey stick, I decided that my foci would be my cane. It was the last thing that anyone would suspect to either be a conduit of personal power or a weapon. 

“Too bad she’s fireproof,” I muttered under my breath. “However, I wonder if Zenobia can swim.”

Jack gave me a stern look at my off-handed remark because Bright Children like Zenobia have few vulnerabilities with Holy Water being the exception. He opened the kitchen door for me, his black Stetson shading his eyes so that I couldn’t read his expression. “You sound worn out.”

“I am,” I admitted, stepping inside the kitchen and making my way toward the kitchen table, plopping down into one of the chairs.

Jack took off his duster and Stetson, hanging them on the coat tree next to the back door. “You need a vacation, Rascal. You’re pushing yourself too hard and you’re going to crack if you’re not careful. Coffee?”

“Please,” I said. “Much love for the cream and sugar.”

“On it,” Jack answered. A moment later, he handed me a steaming mug of black tar. Coffee, by my definition, is a substance sweetened and iced until it resembles frozen heaven in a plastic cup. Add a few gallons of caramel, milk and sugar to coffee and it will taste ten times better.

Breakfast consisted of delicious food and deep conversation, but I kept the most intimate details to myself. I didn’t want to burden Jack with my nightmares, headaches, worries and fears when I wanted to enjoy the morning with my grandfather and eat good home cooking. After breakfast, he showed me the new landscaping he had put in for the flower garden, including the new water fountain he had installed. I complimented him, telling him that the waterfall and koi pond were nice touches.

By eleven-thirty, I knew I only had thirty minutes before I had to meet Zenobia and Cordelia at the Foundation. Penelope had called me late Friday night for a midday weekend meeting which I thought strange, but just decided to go with it and see what happened. While uncommon, it wasn’t without precedent to meet and discuss business with the Darcys on a Saturday.

While I drove down Cornhusker Highway toward midtown Lincoln, I gave into my old habit of self-talk to calm myself down. I breathed slowly, listening to an oldies station that was playing one of my favorite songs. “You can do this, Wren. It’s not as if you haven’t been prepared for this new job and don’t know what the hell you’re doing. It’s not the first time that you’ve had to deal with almost a dozen pyromancers who happen to be your boyfriend’s family.”

After navigating unusually heavy Saturday traffic, I pulled into my assigned parking spot in the Foundation parking lot. The Archangelous Foundation was open every Saturday because of it’s daycare, food bank, urgent care clinic, vocational training classes and various activities it sponsored for the community. Standing in a group in the outdoor break area not far from the main doors were Nick and Gretchen, discussing our upcoming potluck that we had planned for Sunday night.

“Hey, Wren,” Gretchen greeted me a cheerful wave. “Monday’s the big day for you as the new bigwig. Are you up for it?”

“Gee, Gretch, hi to you, too. How are you?” I said with more than a little snark.

“Ooh, not enough coffee?” Nick jibed, fanning himself in mock offense. “Please, don’t tell me as your new assistant you’re turning into a diva. We have enough of that around here already.”

“What, you mean you worry that you won’t be the only one anymore?” I asked, watching him visably cringe.

“Snap!” Gretchen exclaimed, snapping her fingers at the same time. “Nick, she needs another cup of coffee.”

One trip through the Starbucks drive-through, O Great One,” he bowed to me. "I live to serve."

“Are you sure that you really want to be my personal assistant?” I quirked an eyebrow at the sassy man with more than a dose of attitude.

“Sarcastic as ever, I see,” Nick smiled. "That is the Wren I know and love."

“You know some things never change,” I agreed. I watched as Nick’s eyes drifted past me, staring at something behind me. “Oh, happiness and joy. His majesty has arrived.”

"Be nice," I said with more than a bit of warning. "Just remember that his family signs your paycheck." 

I looked over my shoulder to see a midnight blue Audi pull into the parking lot on the other side where all the Darcys parked. The sports car's engine roared one last time before its driver exited his expensive chariot. I watched a familiar vision of masculine perfection step out of the car, walking toward us as though he were a rock star making his way on the red carpet for a movie premier. He was masculine perfection to behold and the first thing his eyes fell upon was me. Only me. I made a mental note to change my panties at my first opportunity.

Anxiety? What anxiety? It fled the moment he started toward us and bliss replaced it as I watched him come closer. What I had done to get my private and personal Prince Charming? While Regs (those without magical or psychic ability) saw an amazingly handsome man, I saw my own private Cambion. His skin glowed subtly with a metallic copper sheen, jade eyes gleamed like flaming gems and that lithe muscular body had never looked better in well-fitting jeans and a white tee shirt.

His eyes locked on mine as one of the women in the parking lot gave a low whistle of appreciation when Corwyn walked past her. By her candid reaction, I knew she wasn't a Foundation employee or she would know better. He knew exactly what effect he had on the humans who wanted him and he found it amusing. I found Corwyn amazing. What had I done to deserve my own private temptation?

His eyes locked on me with purpose and he finally stood before me. “Good morning, Sweetling. Congratulations on your promotion.”

His faint Welsh brogue brushed me like a tender caress along my skin. I heard my breath catch as his hands came to my waist and were almost too low to be appropriate for my taste in public. I resisted the urge to step into his embrace, bury my face in his chest and inhale his intoxicating scent of cinnamon and smoke.

“Right back at you,” I chirped. “Don’t congratulate me just yet, Hot Stuff, I just work here. If I’m not up to snuff, your mother can boot me right out the door, so let’s not break out the bubbly just yet.”

“Confidence, Wren, confidence,” he soothed me with that entrancing voice he possessed. “Your promotion is something definitely worth celebrating.”

“Not so much with the confidence today, Corwyn,” I admitted, letting all the uncertainty show in my expression. There were few people I trusted to see my inner self, but he was one of them. “I’m feeling the urge to hide under a rock.”

“You, hide?” he chuckled. “You’re a fireball wearing lipstick. I think milady doth worry too much.”

“Speak for yourself, Mr. Pagan-god-of-beauty-and-perfection. Not all of us look like you, have your talents and degree of success.” How would I ever be good enough? What if I failed?

“Sweetling,” he crooned, brushing a gentle kiss in my hair. “You are a lioness in high heels with the heart of an angel and the tongue of a harpy. You are doing great things of your own volition that most never have the ambition to accomplish. Don't so quick to underestimate your gifts or yourself.”

“Easy for you to say,” I scoffed. 

“Easy for me to say because I see you in ways others can't, Wren,” Corwyn counted. “You keep up with Penelope, put Zoe in her place and love me for who I am.”

“True, I'm rather awesome like that,” I admitted, flipping my hair back with a dramatic gesture. It was a good facade to mask my fears threatening to make a prison break from their inner dungeon.

“If your head expands any further, you won't be able to fit through the front doors." Corwyn folded his arms, casting a stern gaze at my remark.

"Hmph," I scoffed. "You need to get out more often."

“I need only go out with you. Besides, I have a preference for young human maidens that I long to despoil.”

“Despoil, my ass,” I gave him a skeptical glance. “I’d knock you on your backside in five seconds flat. Let’s see, I’m twenty-six and you’re, oh, nearly one hundred fifty?”

“Give or take a decade,” Corwyn hedged, looking innocently skyward with his hands in his pockets. 

“As a newly-promoted Client Advocate for the aged and disabled,” I began in my most professional voice. “I’d be happy to tell you about the specific services we offer for the elderly. We can trade in your Audi for a wheelchair with chrome-plated wheels and you could put in your diamond false teeth with Poligrip.”

“Always tart and brave,” Corwyn leaned in, pulling me close so that every inch of our bodies met from chest to knee. I felt his leg maneuver subtly between mine and I felt a hard warmth against my hip. His lips met mine and a current coursed from my stomach throughout my body as his tongue teased mine. I leaned into him, longing for more of that sweet, smoky taste of clove and hickory.

I heard a low, ragged gasp come from him as I stifled a moan longing to bubble from my throat. I pulled back and saw Corwyn with his eyes closed, as if fighting for control as I was. They finally opened, his brows rose in surprise at the effect we had on one another. He was usually unflappable. While many saw him as a playboy, I knew he was one who took love, passion and commitment seriously. If there was one thing I knew about Corwyn Darcy: it was that if there weren’t real feelings within him then he allowed nothing to happen. With us, anything was possible.

“You'll be the death of me,” he murmured, "or make me soil my trousers."

“Breathe, Corwyn, breathe,” I nervously joked, stepping back a few feet to get back my composure. “We don’t need to give the entire Foundation a free peep show.”

“We have to get to the meeting,” he sighed.

“Exactly,” I gave him a melancholy smile.

He looked over my shoulder and that wrecked, shattered expression of passion he wore melted away with cold disdain replacing it I saw his aura change from intense red to a frigid blue. “What is it, Corwyn?”

“Your favorite pet has arrived,” Corwyn nodded toward the Foundation’s front door. He released me from his embrace. “I’ll see you inside.”

“Hey, what gives?” I called after him, not understanding his abrupt mood swing. That sort of thing was my usual forte. I glanced over my shoulder and I couldn’t stop a wide grin from spreading across my face when I saw Logan Rohan heading toward me. I hadn’t seen him in a few months and he had become a good friend and peer after my ten rounds with Fiona.

In my new position as Client Advocate for families with school-aged children, I thought it wise to have an Educational Consultant on my team to give me wise advice and to keep my feet out of my mouth when I opened. As a Professor of Anthropology who had originally taught high school Social Science, he was the perfect fit for what I had in mind as my dream team.

My jaw nearly dropped as low as the asphalt when I took in the sight of him. He wasn’t the same Logan Rohan that I had seen in late winter. His hair had grown loner and was a thick, black mane contained only by the black band holding it in a pony tail. Gone was the slender, sinewy frame and replaced by broad shoulders and well-defined biceps. I knew my eyes widened to the size of apples as I gawked like a schoolgirl at the extreme changes he had undergone since I’d last seen him.

“Logan Rohan!” I exclaimed, rushing to meet him. “You’ve got your guns ablazin’.”

“Guns?” he asked, not understanding my reference.

I punched him in the arm. “Biceps, dude. You look like you’ve been hitting the Gym.”

“And Zumba.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Should I show you my killer dance moves?” Logan gave a sexy sway of his hips that made me waggle my eyebrows.

“Promises, promises,” I motioned toward him. “Protein shakes?”

“Every morning,” he confirmed. “You know, if you actually visited me instead of being hardwired to your smart phone, you'd know that I’ve been working out.”

“I can definitely see something is working out well for you,” I gave him an appreciative head-to-toe appraisal. “or you could come work for the Foundation like I’ve suggested in many emails. We could use your mean consulting skills. Come to the dark side, Logan, we have cookies.”

He glanced over toward Corwyn who leaned casually against the wall just before the front doors of the building. “I have enough demons to battle, I don’t need another one breathing hellfire at me.”

“Not going there,” I hedged. "I make sure to always a handy-dandy fire extinguisher."

“So, congratulations on your promotion,” he smiled. “I know you’ll be the one bright spot in this den of -”

“You agreed to come on as an independent consultant,” I interrupted. “If you think the Darcys are Hell incarnate, then why are you here?”

“You asked and Jack asked me as a personal favor,” Logan admitted, his eyes looking away for an instant. “I owed him one.”

“Now, I owe you one,” I laid a hand on his shoulder, glad to see my one of my few friends who truly understood my chaotic, charmed life. “Thanks for coming on board.”

“For you, anytime. Well, I have a congratulatory gift for you to mark the occasion,” Logan produced a pocket watch and held it up at face level. “You have trouble being on time and you’re having trouble believing good times are here, so I got you this.”

He held up a sterling silver pocket watch that had a miniature nebula on the front of it that was covered by domed glass. About an inch and a half in diameter, it sparkled and gleamed in the late morning light as if Logan had managed to capture a galaxy, infusing it into the timepiece. I held it up, watching it reflect the sunshine as it dangled from the silver chain I held. Then, I opened it, reading aloud the inscription engraved inside, “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

As I read it aloud, I felt my eyes sting with too much sentimentality. I held the watch in my hands, closing my eyes so that liquid emotion wouldn’t ruin my mascara. My friend knew my love of all things Tolkien and my fondness for Gandalf the Gray.

“Logan, wow. I’m speechless.”

“That’s a first.”

“Thank you,” was the only phrase I could utter as I stared at the beautiful jewelry in my hand.

“Anytime,” he gave me a smile as he tweaked my nose. “I’ll meet you inside.”

“See you in a minute,” I promised. 

Later, as Corwyn and I walked inside the Foundation heading toward the Conference Room, he gave me a a long stare. “You’ll accept something from Logan Rohan, but you won’t allow me to give you a gift to commemorate your promotion.”

“For starters,” I answered. “You’re family hired and promoted me. You’re richer than Midas and you don't need to give a single thing. I don’t want you to think I’m all about the bling and what you do for me.”

“Wren, you’re everything to me and simply by living you’ve blessed me,” he answered. “I know you don’t care about my fortune or status and that is one of the things I love about you.”

“Now, that is the most precious gift you’ve given me to date,” I sighed. “Your love is plenty.”

“It is only the beginning,” his rich tenor voice whispered in my ear for only me to hear as others passed us in the corridor. “I want to give you so much more.”

I shivered at the determined promise his voice held, making me quiver with anticipation of what it meant. "You know that I'll give it back in spades, Corwyn," I vowed, raising my brow in challenge. Now, his breath caught raggedly in his throat and that made me smile. 

“Wren!” a voice called from behind us. Looking in that direction, I saw a petite blonde bounding down the hall towards us. The next thing I knew, the sprite wrapped me in a tight hug. “Congrats on your promotion!”

“Thanks,” I wheezed as Corwyn’s twin sister, Cordelia, enthusiastically squeezed the air out of my lungs. She was my best friend with short platinum curls that reminded me of Jean Harlow and magical presence that made me think of Tinkerbell from the Disney movies. She shoved a brightly wrapped package into my hands. “Here, open it!”

I sighed in exasperation as fellow employees walked by us, staring at the spectacle. I nodded slowly a couple of times. “Cordy, you didn’t have to, you know.”

“I know I didn’t so, therefore, I did it anyway,” she chirped with playful defiance. “Open it.”

“Now? The meeting starts in five minutes.”

“And it’ll take you twenty seconds to open it,” she chimed. “Please?”

The gift felt fairly heavy in my hands when I gave it a gentle shake. Wrapped in bright metallic turquoise gift wrap and a bright white bow, I knew that trying to defy Cordelia was like trying to herd cats: no luck whatsoever. I silently admitted defeat and pulled off the flawlessly tied bow, handing it to Corwyn. I carefully tore open the shiny wrapping paper, thinking I could save it for future use because it was too lovely to throw away. 

Cordy tapped her foot impatiently as I methodically unwrapped the gift. It was fun to annoy her and watch bright orange spark shoot from her aura. Opening the box, I pulled back the white tissue paper and gasped at what lay inside: a stained glass suncatcher inlaid with a turquoise, emerald and violet eight-pointed hex sign. I recognized that octagonal star as the Bryant family symbol that represented our legacy. I felt the magic contained within the suncatcher brimming over the edges so powerfully that I almost dropped it. The protection glyphs in small Celtic runes on the outside perimeter of the suncatcher packed a supernatural wallop which I felt as I held it. This wasn’t some trinket or simple amulet that Cordy had given me. What I held in my hands was the product from a master runesmith.

“I hope you like it,” she said with an hopeful glimmer in those clear lavender eyes.

Just accept it gracefully, Esteban’s deep voice resonated inside my mind. She was worried you wouldn’t like it.

“How can I not? Much love for the stained glass,” I hugged my friend tightly, not caring if I made an emotional mess in public. “Did you make this?”

“I did,” she said proudly.

“I can tell,” I held it up in the natural light, admiring the craftsmanship an the vivid prism of color it projected on a wall as it refracted the sunshine. “It is flawless.”

“Great!” she clapped her hands with unbridled enthusiasm. “By the way, family gathering tonight at six to celebrate your promotion.”

“Oh save me from the stubbornness of Cambions,” I muttered, casting Esteban a rueful glance.

When it rains, it pours, Wren, his voice rang in my thoughts.

“You have to come, Wren,” Cordy pursed her lips in a pout, platinum curls bouncing. “With everything that’s happened in the past year, we need a good party. Please, please, please? It will be so much fun.”

Cordelia skipped by to husband, gleeful in her victory and I just shook my head. I felt the telepathic suggestion echo inside my head when I realized that he had used his ability to encourage my agreement.

“Hey, Esteban, don’t mess with my brain,” I said, feeling the first twinges of a headache. “Do I look like psychic social media here?”

His stern, predatory expression softened into a rare smile. “Sorry, Wren. It’s what I do. Congrat-”

“Don’t even start,” I warned him, holding up my hand to stop him in mid-sentence. "Or I will unfriend you from my brain. Just because you can peek doesn't mean that I won't kick you out of it in a heartbeat.

“Point taken,” he said, smirking. "Scratch that."

I gave Corwyn an exasperated expression. 

“The only predictable thing about Cambions are their unpredictability,” Corwyn shrugged.

“Yeah, I noticed.”

 

******

In the meeting, we discussed The Messengers of Hope campaign, finalizing the plan to commission local artists to craft sculptures of seraphs holding something in their hands which symbolized hope, prosperity or whatever else represented a better life for those in our community. Phase Two of the plan was to convince local businesses, corporations and organizations to purchase their sculpture of choice and to display it on their property as solidarity for the program while the funds raised would be used for several charitable programs for those in most need of those services and products. 

Zenobia and I had a rare moment of agreement that one of the sculptures made by Corwyn’s own hand should grace the courtyard of Hyperion Heights. She asked me what I thought was a messenger of hope, I said, “Angel.” 

She astonished me further by agreeing without hesitation. After the meeting, I leaned over to Corwyn. “Okay, where is the real Zenobia and where is she hiding? Who spiked her drink with happy pills?”

“She genuinely liked your idea,” he explained. “I felt her sincerity as you shared your ideas with her.”

“Maybe it was just the energy drink she was guzzling,” I snorted. 

“She’s trying,” he started. "Give her a chance, Wren."

“I know, but it’s hard for me to not think of her with her nose in the air half the time,” I spouted, not putting internal filters in place. “If her nose were any higher in the atmosphere, the Air Force would mistake it for a bogie and shoot it down.”

“oh, how you make the truth sting,” he chuckled. 

 

*****

 

Corwyn and I spent the rest of the afternoon together at my apartment at Hyperion Heights. Being the Apartment Manager and Corwyn’s girlfriend, the Darcys insisted that I live in the top apartment which spanned half of the third story. I think they conspired with Tristan so I'd have to walk all those flights of stairs. The first thing I'd done for repairs was to get the elevator repair people over there to fix the elevator infamous for trapping people in between floors. I loved my apartment because it was everything that I had ever wanted in my dream space. It was an open concept with honey oak floors and vaulted ceilings with all the classic Art Deco touches that made the place unique. To the west were large beveled lead glass windows that brought in the afternoon sun. In the ceiling was nine feet of brightly-hued stained glass in an intricate kaleidoscopic design the projected bouts of color on the walls in the late afternoon.

The kitchen was my favorite part of the apartment. I loved the large island in the center and the granite countertops, the hanging stained glass pendant light fixtures hanging over it, the large copper farmhouse sink with the oil rubbed bronze fixtures and the tiled backsplash. As Corwyn made his best dish, a popular one from his brother Liam’s “Jazz and Jade” restaurant chain, the smell of pork ribs in sesame barbecue sauce with sauteed almonds, water chestnuts, Shitaki mushrooms, bell peppers and pea pods made my mouth water. 

One of the reasons that I was much with the nervous was because I had to discuss something of importance with Corwyn that I’d been delaying for a few months. While I was caught up in the romance, the dream job and the good fortune, I’d also been feeling the urge all Solomonari feel when we come into our abilities. Salmon swim upstream to spawn and we Solomonari walk our Segueway. Fighting the urge to Segue was like keeping me me out of my favorite shoe store: impossible.

“Corwyn, I need to discuss something with you,” I said quietly, not knowing how else to begin. As he added a dash of seasoning to the sizzling wok filled with meat and vegetables, jade eyes looked at me with concern.

“It sounds serious,” he began, effortlessly flipping the vegetables and meat high in the air while none of the food landed outside of the wok. His eyes flamed from jade to tangerine in only a few seconds as my anxiety levels rose. “What troubles you, Sweetling?”

“I don’t know where to start,” I shrugged helplessly, sitting on a stool on the other side of the island as he cooked. “You know that I’ve started coming into my abilities in the past year.”

“Yes?” he said attentively as she put some orange zest into the the delicious smelling concoction he was making.

“You know that I’ve also had some repercussions from having your father, Julian, being bonded to me,” I added. “It’s doing a lot more to me than just giving me the occasional headache.”

“What do you mean?” Corwyn grabbed two plates from the cupboard the scooped generous portions of Ribs Sweet and Sour Barbeque onto the plates.

“It’s affecting my health,” I started slowly. “I have nightmares, headaches and recently, nosebleeds."

Corwyn stopped mid-motion, his eyes went from jade to flame within two blinks. "How long has this been going on and how long were you going to wait to tell me?"

"I wanted to be sure first of what I was dealing with before I told you. Tristan ran a neuroscan on me a few weeks ago and told me that my brain is showing signs of neurological degeneration.”

The wok clattered onto the floor. My eyes locked with twin fires filled with shock and disbelief. Silence filled the space between us as Corwyn remained stock still for several heartbeats. I wondered if Cambions could go into severe shock. “What does that mean?”

“My brain is gradually shutting down, Corwyn,” I took a shaky sigh as I finally admitted the truth to him and myself. “My body isn’t meant to house such a powerful entity as Julian and if I don’t transplant our favorite ghost soon, it’s goings to have very permanent effects.”

“What do you mean?” Corwyn responded through gritted teeth.

"Permanent as I'll have a granite headboard with a bed that has satin on three sides," I replied as I grabbed some garlic salt, setting it beside the wok. "I'll be practicing my horticulture by pushing up daisies, Corwyn."

Could demons go into shock? He froze mid-motion, dropping the wok with all of it's sizzling contents that splattered onto the floor and me. "Corwyn?" 

"Julian is killing you by degrees."

“Pretty much. If allowed to continue subletting,then, yes.” I decided being candid was the best approach. Charm and chicanery were never my fortes. “Jack doesn’t know, but Della thinks that I might be able to find the solution to this problem if I were to segue.”

“Segue?” Corwyn remained motionless, silently demanding further explanation.

“Think walkabout, vision quest, rumspringa and Bar Mitzvah all rolled into one nifty package,” I injected a good dose of artificial cheerfulness into my words. “It’s a journey that every young Solomonar takes to determine one’s gifts and calling. And, there’s a lot of partying associated with it.” I smiled broadly, hoping that my boyfriend’s empathy wouldn’t discover my abject terror of dying before thirty.

“And you, only now, decide to share this with me?” Corwyn’s voice boomed with a supernatural undercurrent that rattled the building with the strength of a small earthquake. The dark echo in his voice chilled my glib sarcasm so that I faced my fear for the first time. With inhuman speed, he was in front of me within a millisecond with a firm grip on my upper arms. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“No,” I retorted. “Why would you think that?”

“How could you not tell me this earlier? How can you joke about it?” Corwyn demanded, his grip tightening on my arms as he gave me a shake that rattled my internal organs. “The sole reason that I am a better man is because of your redemption of me. You are my inspiration to rise above my nature. If not for you, Wren, I have no reason to be in this world as it holds nothing for me.”

"Hey, Hot Stuff, I'm the one who is dying here and pardon me but this isn't al about you." How dare he try to guilt-trip me? I felt my protection amulet vibrate violently against my skin and I saw that my mother’s ring began pulsing with a familiar amethyst glow. My fear combined with growing offense that he had his hands on me like he did. “Corwyn, let me go. You’re hurting me.”

His hands abruptly fell to his sides. A harsh breath escaped him, “Forgive me, I forgot myself.”

I inhaled deeply, trying to buy time and figure out what I wanted to say. When one can’t dazzle with brilliance or baffle with belogna, try honesty. I ran my fingers through my curls, feeling the shadows of terror close me in a small space filled with fright. “Corwyn, I’m scared and I don’t know what to do, okay? I’ve talked to Della and Tristan and they have no easy answers. I’m afraid to tell Jack because he will at his wits’ end. Even if the link between Julian and me can be severed, his soul could be destroyed in the process. To me, it’s murder whether he’s alive or already dead. However, the Powers-That-Be sometimes guide us to what we need in our Segueway from childhood to Adulthood. It’s the one option I’ve got.”

“How can I help, Sweetling? Tell me what to do.” I heard the wrecked desperation in Corwyn’s voice and my heart shattered in that moment. I didn’t want to leave this world without him and I didn’t want to hurt him anymore than I already had.

“There’s nothing you can do,” I shrugged. “If I’m going to do this, I’ll have to do it soon. Tristan is going to arrange a leave of absence for me and explain things to Penelope and Zenobia. I’m not going without preparation.”

"When are you going?" he finally asked. 

I watched those twin flames die until ash remained in his gaze. The desolation of my news and revelation had left him broken and I was to blame. He turned his head away, eyes closed and he remained still. Moments passed and he remained motionless to the point of wondering if he had petrified in my presence. “Corwyn, are you okay?”

“I am not okay,” he glowered at me through his hooded gaze. “It is my job to protect you and I can’t do that because I am helpless in this wake. Had you never met me, you wouldn’t be in this predicament now.”

“Coulda, shoulda, woulda,” I scoffed. “I’d rather be here with you for the rest of my life knowing love like this rather than live the half-life I had. I love you, Corwyn Darcy.”

“And I love you, Wren Bryant,” Corwyn pulled me closed, holding me to him in his strong embrace. “Who else in the family knows?”

“You, Tristan, Della and Penelope. That’s it.”

“Do you want to tell the others tonight?”

“Hell, no!” I snorted. “I’m not going to have Zoe dancing on my grave.”

“Even she isn’t that cold, Wren.”

“I'd bet against that anyday,” I scoffed. "The odds are in my favor."

I no longer had an appetite and I longed only for the comfort of the strong arms that held me.

 

*******

Later that night at the Darcy house, I did my best to put on my most cheerful demeanor. While Liam served Hor d’Oeurves, most of us chatted about the Messenger Of Hope Campaign, Husker Baseball and whatever else came to mind. Because of the warmth of Corwyn’s family, I momentarily forgot the figurative neutron bomb that I had dropped on Corwyn earlier that day.

Cordelia bounded into the room, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the main living room. “Come on, Wren, time to get the party started.”

I followed her into the large open area where all the Darcys had gathered. They all looked at me expectantly and I marveled how so many beautiful people were in the same room. Dozens of candle illuminated the great room, basking the entire space in warm golden glow. To a table on the right was a three tier cake with turquoise frosting and light green icing that I had seen on display at Jazz and Jade just a few days prior, but with different colored frosting. The sweet scent of vanilla wafted from the candles, filling the room with an aroma that was my favorite. There on that same table were several more wrapped boxes and gift bags. I smiled when I heard strains of Frank Sinatra playing in the background.

Seven pairs of vivid blue and green eyes gleamed with joy and just as many dazzling, perfect smiles greeted me. As Cordelia led me into the room, Corwyn followed behind. “We tried telling Cordy to keep it low key, but you know how much luck we have with asking her to keep things simple.”

“This is...” I looked for the right word, “stunning.”

“Wren, it’s good to see you,” Tristan greeted me with a warm smile while Penelope wrapped me in one of his strong hugs.

“Darlin’, congratulations. I am so proud of you. I was hoping you’d do something like this,” Penelope's gentle Southern drawl brought out the secret wish that she were my mother. I sniffed and felt my throat choke on the unexpected rush of emotion.

“I’ll do my best not to let you down,” I heard my voice cracked and prayed to God that Penelope didn’t hear it.

“You could never let me down, Sugar.” Pell grasped my hands in hers and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Impossible.”

“Hey, look over here!” Cordy beamed at us. We turned in her direction to see her smart phone in hand and flashes of light temporarily blinded me as she snapped several pictures in rapid succession. “Say cheese.”

“Go Zoe,” Liam gave his wife a playful poke in the ribs. I always wondered how those two ended up together. He wore his black hair shorted black, spiked and green on the ends while sporting neon green gauges in his ears and vividly-colored tattoos sleeving his arms from wrist to shoulder. Zenobia was a tall, statuesque redhead with cold blue eyes and bone structure so sharp it could cut tension like a knife. “You first.’

She abruptly thrust a small pink envelope into my hands. “Here, we know you like to shop. It’s a gift card to Gordmans. We hope you enjoy it.”

Her voice sounded strained and brittle to my ears, but her aura had bursts of gold and pink mottled with green. Corwyn was right, she didn’t like me, but she was trying to get past it. By looking at her aura instead of body language, I knew that she might almost be likable one day. . . someday. . .MAYBE. I put on my best smile and chose the most genuine response I could muster. “Thanks, Zoe, it’s very kind of you and Liam to think of me.”

Zenobia looked as awkward as I felt and we both looked for any reprieve from the forced interaction for which neither of us were ready. Cordy intervened by draggin Corwyn by the arm next to me. “Alright, you guys, give me big smiles. Flash those pearly whites for me.”

I felt a lingering kiss in my hair and I looked for an escape route. Cameras and I don’t get along, Dear Reader, because most pictures I take make mug shots look good. Thankfully, Cordy set down her smart phone only to hand me another gift. “Congratulations on your promotion, Wren! This gift is from Liam.”

I took the box and gave it a shake and I heard a metallic rattle. My brows furrowed with curiosity, wondering what was inside the box. Carefully, I removed the lid and found a very expensive cutlery set that I had seen him sell in one of his restaurant’s gift shops. These were top of the line knives on par with Wusthof and Victorinox. I smiled with my mouth half-open in amazement at the wonderful gift.

“Remember, those are for chopping food and not my brother’s ba-”

“Liam!” Zoe elbowed her husband in he ribs. “Shut up!”

Thank God for small favors, I thought as I looked skyward. I felt eyes upon and turned, finding that Esteban gave me an agreeing nod. I simply shrugged.

Then, the pain hit. When in their own home, the Darcys made no attempt to filter their hypnotic voices, giving me a throbbing headache making me feel as though I’d spent the day in an echo chamber. The unexpected telepathic probe into my mind sent me into automatic defense mode. To this day, Dear Reader, I have little memory of what happened in those next few seconds. With all of the people surrounding me and being Cambions, along with the audio assault and the unexpected invasion into my brain, I found my mind had left the room and I was back in the field face-to-face with Fiona.

The next thing I remembered after the flashback was Penelope applying a compress to my head while the others stared at me as though I had suddenly sprouted extra limbs. What I couldn’t quite wrap my head around was the four feet wide gaping hole in their living room wall that was encircled in flame. Liam and Zoe had fire extinguishers in hand to deal with the blaze. Dimly, in the back of my mind, I asked the question why they didn’t just mentally extinguish the flames. Zoe cast a cold glare in my direction., “With what you just did, do you think we’re crazy?”

“Zoe, enough.” Penelope commanded.

“She almost killed Esteban and you think I’m insane for not wanting a Solomonar in our home?” the shrillness in Zoe’s voice resonated with empathic waves caused another agonizing bolt to course through my temples, strong enough where my knees buckled from the intensity of it. I heard a hoarse scream in the room and later recognized it as mine.

They quickly left the room at Corwyn’s urging as Penelope and Tristan took me to the bathroom to tend to my injuries.

My head throbbed and I had a nasty laceration above my right eye from what I saw in the mirror. “What happened?”

“Esteban told us that you experienced a flashback,” Penelope said gently. “You were caught off guard, Sweetie, by the combination of so many voices trying conveying so much emotion and the mind-to-mind communication.”

“I don’t understand,” completely confused by what I didn’t know happened.

“We were trying so hard to have you relax and enjoy yourself. When Esteban talked with you mind-to-mind, your mind broke with on the defensive and you reverted to the day Fiona attacked you in the field,” Tristan explained quietly as he opened the First-Aid box, pulling out a large bandage. “You grew excited and cast a force blast that sent Esteban through the wall and into the front yard.”

“Wait, that’s impossible.” I corrected Tristan immediately. “I’m not a telekinetic and can’t do that.”

“Honey, you did exactly that,” Penelope shook her head so that her honey-brown tresses shook with her.

“No, that can’t be,” I denied. “I’m only psychometric, Pell. My powers are passive, not defensive. I can’t physically alter anything around me.”

“That’s true,” Tristan reluctantly agreed. “but, Wren, your ring and pendant are defensive in nature and geared toward naturally protecting you from any perceived attack. When you had a flashback, Esteban tried to pull you out of it and you sent him through wall.”

“I am so sorry,” I shook my head, tears started forming as a sob escaped me. I wanted to deny it and tell my friends there were mistaken. Part of me thought they were lying. I looked for anything to discredit their story. “If I did that, then why was the wall on fire?”

“When Esteban tried again to calm you, Dumpling, you also tried blasting him with a fireball,” Penelope said. She brushed back one stray black curl getting in the way of her applying the bandage to the cut above my eye. “How is that possible?”

"It's not," I hedged. "Cambions are immune to fire." 

"Don't get smart with me, young lady," Penelope's stern look and motherly tone made my resolve crumble and my eyes sting. No matter how one is, one always needs a mother and she was the closest person I had as one.

I explained my current situation with Julian.

“Wren, you’re body isn’t compatible with those kinds of powers,” Tristan said softly. “It’s killing you and we need to find a way to give Julian peace and you freedom from the side-effects of your psychic bond with him.”

“There’s nothing that can be done,” I bawled freely now into Penelope’s silk shirt. “Della and Tristan said they can’t find anything. Penelope, I am scared.”

“I know, Baby, I know,” she crooned, rocking me like a small child. “We'll do everything we can.”

“I don’t want to hurt anybody and I don’t want to die,” I sobbed into her shoulder. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

“No, it’s just what happened, that’s all,” Penelope grabbed a tissue from a nearby dispenser and dabbed at my eyes. “You’ve always been very accepting of us and loving toward Corwyn. We will find a solution.”

I nodded mutely. Corwyn entered the room to check on me and I asked that he drive me home. I mumbled another hasty apology and grabbed my purse as I dashed out the door to the Audi. Corwyn and I drove back to Lincoln in relative silence as I stared out the window for most of the trip. He pulled into the driveway, cut the engine and turned off the lights leaving us there alone in the darkness

“Because of how I am now,” I spoke for the first time in over an hour. “I can’t control my abilities or the ones I have from Julian. At some point, if I don’t harness them, I’m going to seriously hurt someone and I don’t want it to any of your family or mine. Tonight, we were lucky and all that happened was a big hole in the wall, which I’ll pay for, by the way. I'll get quotes from general contractors tomorrow-" 

"You're dying Wren and you're worried about fixing a damned hole in the wall?" he yelled. 

"Hey, back off!" I barked, wrapping my arms around me like a cloak of protection. "Defense mechanism, okay? When everything falls apart, I go into containing-collateral-damage mode. It's how I deal with things, Corywn." 

I sniffed, no longer trying to stem the flow of hot tears scalding the skin of my cheeks as they burnt twin trails in my skin.

Corwyn closed his eyes for a moment, saying nothing as he rested his brow against mine. I felt the pads of his thumbs gently wipe away each tear that fell.

The only solution I can think of is to stay away from everyone until I can put a cap on this thing,” I sobbed, hot tears burning holes into the fabric of his shirt.

“That’s not resolution, Wren,” Corwyn answered, staring into the night. “That’s failure. I won’t accept it.”

“Sometimes, you just have to accept what is, Corwyn.” I snapped, feeling heat rising in my fingertips. I wanted to burn anything at that moment because I felt so helpless.

“I accept that we love each other and that no love grows without adversity,” he said, opening the door and then slamming it behind him as he came around to my passenger side door. “Do you not understand the depth of love that I feel for you; that you feel for me?”

I felt his hand on cup my cheek, his eyes bright with unshed emotion. I heard my breath catch as my despair and shame caught up with me and the waves of Corwyn’s love entwine with all of my emotion. I knew exactly how much I loved this man; enough to know it was immeasurable. I pulled him to me and brought his lips to mine, gently flicking my tongue against his lips to taste the sweetness of frosting and a hint of spice. I put all my love and emotion into that kiss as our lips met, our tongues meeting in a fusion of love and desire, desperation and hope. I heard a low mewl escape me along with a harsh gasp from Corwyn. He lifted me to the trunk of the Audi, setting me atop it as he buried his head in my shoulder. “Sweetling, you undo me.”

I shuddered against him as one hand cupped my cheek, kissing me until I saw stars flame against the backs of my eyelids. I held him tightly as he trembled in my arms. I felt the hot metal on my finger and against my chest brand me as I fought my jewelry’s urges to scramble away from him while our mutual explosion drained me of any energy I had. I fell back against the care from exhaustion and barely had the strength to look at him. Corwyn’s eyes were consumed with bright orange flame as he looked down at me. Our stars weren’t crossed, our lives were going supernova and spiraling into a black hole consuming us.

It had to stop before one of us died. I didn’t want it to be one of his family or mine and I didn’t want to kill another person. Matthew already suffered that fate. I knew that my beloved empath felt my emotions as he drew me into a sitting position, holding me as though I were fragile and might break. I felt scalding burns on my shoulder as his tears burned through the fabric of my blouse and touched my skin.

In that moment I knew what I had to do and it killed me slowly, painfully and completely. In that moment I embraced a lovely and wretched death.

TO BE CONTINUED..........


End file.
